


The Pain We Cause Ourselves

by shayzgirl



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) RPF
Genre: M/M, Photofic, Tumblr, self abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-05
Updated: 2012-03-05
Packaged: 2017-11-01 12:50:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/356990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shayzgirl/pseuds/shayzgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James deals with his pain in his own way</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pain We Cause Ourselves

**Author's Note:**

> I was supposed to be working on a couple other fics, but azryal pointed out that James was pulling his own hair and that fic was needed for that, so I wrote a thing.

  
([source](http://ohyeahjamesmcavoy.tumblr.com/post/17795451072)) ([original fic post on my tumblr](http://captain-shayzgirl.tumblr.com/post/17898946429/azryal00-thedameloves-azryal00-i))

  


It was something that he started when he was younger, when things upset him, hurt him emotionally or even mentally, so he’d do something to take away the pain. At first, he’d dig his nails into his palms, but then he’d started biting his nails. He moved onto biting his lip, but his gran saw the marks on his lips and even caught him one time and had scolded him for it. That’s when he’d started pulling his hair. Never hard enough to pull any hair out, he didn’t need to start going bald at age nine. It was just enough to distract himself from the real pain.  
  
As he’d grown up, he’d tried to do it less, to stop himself from doing it, but sometimes things just upset him so much that he’d do it without realising. He’d usually stop himself, once he did realise but it kept happening again and again.  
  
And then came Michael. Tall, ginger, always made him laugh, devastatingly gorgeous and completely uninterested in James. He continued to hang out with Michael, even with the ache it caused in his heart.  
  
After one particular night of drinking and talking, James returned to his room fighting the urge to cry over the ache in his heart. He walked over to the bed and sank down onto the floor, his left hand reaching up to grip just above the nap of his neck. He pulled hard, hard enough that a few strands came free. Tears burned his eyes, fighting not to let them shed. His right hand came up and gripped the hairs above his forehead, pulling just as hard. He focused on the pain that he caused himself, blocking out the pain caused by late nights laughing with an Irish man.  
  
He made himself angry, thinking of his own idiocy, to fall for a man who couldn’t and wouldn’t fall for him. He kept pulling, telling himself over and over again he deserved it. He was so focused on his self torture, that he didn’t hear the door open.  
  
“James?”  
  
James turned to look at the man who’s voice he knew so well, hands still holding his hair and pulling more strands loose.  
  
“What are you doing?” Michael asked.  
  
“Why do you care?” James asked.  
  
Michael stepped closer to James, who’s hold on his own hair was turning his knuckles white. James scowled. Michael kneeled down next to him, reaching carefully to force James to let go of his hair. He held James’ hands in his own.  
  
“Why wouldn’t I care?” Michael asked.  
  
James shrugged.  
  
“I do and whatever reason you were doing that, I hope you know that you can talk to me,” Michael replied.  
  
“I…”  
  
Michael ran a hand through James hair, fixing it so the hairs didn’t stand up with the force James had been pulling it. He then cupped James cheek, brushing a stray tear away with his thumb. James leaned into the touch, letting his eyes close, pretending for a few moments that Michael truly cared the way he did. Warm lips pressed a gently kiss against his forehead, causing James to shiver as he forced back a broken sob.  
  
“James,” Michael whispered.  
  
“Please,” James whispered back, afraid to open his eyes and not exactly sure what he was asking for.  
  
“Look at me. Please.”  
  
Slowly, he opened his eyes to see Michael’s grey-green ones looking at him, soft and kind and concerned.  
  
“Why now?” James asked.  
  
“The look you gave me before leaving my room, I worried about you being alone.”  
  
James nodded, unsure what to say in response. Michael leaned forward and kissed his forehead again, lips lingering for a moment.  
  
“Stay, please.”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
Michael sat down next to him, putting an arm around James’ shoulders as James leaned his head against Michael, feeling the warmth and solidness of the other man.


End file.
